


The Best Bad Ideas

by ambiguously



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Drunk Sex, Multi, On the Run, Post-Coital Cuddling, Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-31 03:27:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8561806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambiguously/pseuds/ambiguously
Summary: Kylo is the crown prince of poor planning.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WildAndFreeHearts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildAndFreeHearts/gifts).



The problem is, it's night. No, the problem is, he's had far too much to drink. Or maybe the problem is that he's naked. It's difficult to think just now. Kylo blames the drinking and the nudity.

The drink was quite nice, actually. The First Order never allows them anything good, another disappointment in a long series. Whose idea had it been to sample the barrel of thick beer they'd found in the basement of this abandoned inn where they were taking shelter? Ah yes. His own. That figures. Kylo is very tipsy, and the consequence of the pleasantly fuzzy cast to his brain is the equally sharp clarity in his worst thoughts. He is the crown prince of poor planning.

If he had a better head for strategy, he wouldn't be on the run now, fleeing his former allies in the company of his sworn enemies.

There's a foot by his face. Kylo focuses on it, trying to determine whose foot it is, and if it is in fact his own. He wriggles his toes. No. Not his foot. The defector. FN-2187. _Finn_ , as he prefers to be called. His foot. Probably. Kylo's arm is trapped under someone's body, also not his own, or he would tickle the foot to see who jumped, possibly getting kicked in the face at the same time.

There's hair in his face, and most of it is his but some appears to be Rey's, freed from her tight knots. She's asleep, snuggled right between him and Finn. She took one sip of the beer, made a face, and wouldn't touch any more, he remembers.

Her face is turned away, which prevents him from seeing how her eyes dart under their lids while she sleeps. He doesn't like her, but he finds her fascinating.

She makes a soft sleep noise, which draws a smile onto his face.

He moves his head, and there's that kick he's been expecting. Different foot. Kylo turns his head. Dameron, unless they've somehow picked up yet another straggler he can't remember just now. Four is enough, more than enough. He's studied high-level physics, and he's still not one hundred percent sure where all their knees went. Sex had seemed like a good idea at the time, and it had been. Probably not his idea, then.

He's not impressed with the sight of someone else's toes. Also, if his own toes are anything to judge by, the other end of their borrowed bed appears to have pillows.

With a lot of effort, Kylo sits up in the darkened room. His arm comes out from under Rey, waking her enough for him to shove her up towards the top of the bed. The low light, provided by their own glowing heater, is bright as day to his dilated eyes. He watches her, still asleep, snuggle into an embrace with Finn, who doesn't wake more than to wrap his arms around her securely. Kylo settles in, and he jostles Dameron a bit to get more space on the pillow for himself.

Night will last for hours yet outside, and this planet is enshrouded in thick clouds that block the stars. There are worse places to spend the time than warm between bodies.

Dameron's hand reaches out in his own sleep, and rests on Kylo's hip as his body scoots closer. "Love you," he mutters into Kylo's hair. They never said that sort of thing in the old days, when Poe Dameron was the handsome older boy all the other children they knew got crushes on. Kylo won't say he likes hearing it now. Drunk declarations at night lead to hungover retractions in the morning, or so he's heard.

"Love you." Rey's sleepy echo startles him, and the half-snore that Finn answers sends a weird warmth into him he hasn't felt in a long time.

He's drunk, but not drunk enough to say it back, not to these three. He doesn't even like them, any of them.

Poe squeezes him closer and Kylo closes his eyes, enjoying the contact.

All right. Maybe he likes them just a little bit.


End file.
